


Never Could Get the Hang of Thursdays

by ermengarde



Category: GlamRPF
Genre: M/M, solo play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is a creepy fucking Thursday-hibernating delusional hermit and he doesn't fucking give a fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Could Get the Hang of Thursdays

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know WHAT this is. It's less odd than most of the shit I write, but only because there are no judgemental freezer bears in it (there are totally mentions of zombies. Welcome to my brain).
> 
> I suspect my ID is showing, but I would like to point out that _some_ of this shit is stolen from someone else's brain (they just didn't know I was going to write fic about it. I'm pretty sure they don't know I write fic and they're not in fandom. Being my friend is ALL SORTS of invasive).
> 
> The word fuck accounts for approximately 5% of the total wordcount. I am not ashamed.
> 
> Title stolen from _Hitchhikers_ and really not terribly relevant.

It's Thursday, which has basically never been Tommy's favorite day (too many Friday deadlines on homework and quizzes and too fucking far from the weekend, and yeah, he might be a million years outta school, but it's, like, conditioning, yanno?). Bad shit's always happened to him on Thursdays - he's been fired (twice) which wasn't totally the worst thing ever (the jobs were) but, well, _rent_ , dumped (and at least one of those was because he was behaving like a total shit to get her to be the dumper, but whatever, it still counts), mugged (not that he had shit worth stealing and the dude pretty much just waved a knife at him, but still, Tommy's jacket got slashed and he somehow managed to tell his fucking _mom_ and fuck it), gay bashed (when he was right fucking next to his fucking _girl_ friend. Fucking idiots) and, like, a billion other petty annoyances that mostly add up in a way that means Tommy's quite happy to spend the whole fucking day in bed.

People learn, quite quickly, not to schedule shit for Thursdays unless there's no other option. Grumpy Tommy is nobody's friend.

So, anyways, it's Thursday and Tommy's got precisely nowhere to be; he's been to the bathroom and he's grabbed supplies from the kitchen (Fritos, soda, cheesy popcorn, two red velvet cupcakes and a bag of trail mix to quiet the interfering maniacs who keep fucking nagging him about never eating anything healthy. Fish tacos are totally fucking healthy, fuck off) and now he's wrapped up like a burrito in his comforter. He is cozy and comfy and he's going to have a nap, followed by some M*A*S*H and munchies. Perfect.

Thursday morning (afternoon? Who fucking gives a fuck) naps are the best thing ever. He's never really been big on, like, lucid dreaming and all that shit, and yeah, he's seen shit when he's been all fucked up, but who the fuck hasn't, totally doesn't count and who the fuck remembers that shit anyways, but there's something about getting, like, your tenth hour of sleep when it's light outside and there are trucks and shit in the street making noise that means you're totally in control of the weird shit your brain spews out.

Sometimes Tommy likes to picture his best life ever, like, fantasize about what it would be like to be a rock star or shit, but he's mostly actually _living_ that shit now, and he really can't project himself forward to imagine marriage and kids and shit (he's tried, yanno? He's thirty, he should be ready for that shit, but mostly he likes his own space too much to want to settle down and he fucking loves kids but the thought of actually _fathering_ one terrifies the crap outta him) so lately he's been working through, like, post-apocalyptic horror movie scenarios. He's pretty sure he'll be fine when the zombies come (okay, so a lot of it depends on Adam not getting zombified and not changing the security code on his gates, but still, it's a totally fucking valid plan.).

 _Sometimes_ he tries to picture what it would have been like if he and Adam had ever managed to work out their shit - like, if he'd ever really gotten into the sex side of things, rather than just skirting the line of too-intimate touches and kisses. Tommy's got a pretty clear idea in his head of what being in bed with Adam would be like, they got pretty fucking close to, well, fucking and he looked at a whole fucking bunch of gay porn for research so, yeah. Blow jobs are, like, mostly pretty fucking awesome no matter who the mouth's attached to as long as they cover their fucking teeth and it's not _Tommy's_ fucking fault that he might, maybe, kinda possibly have a bit of a subby streak that fits real fucking nice right up against Adam's alpha-as-fuck entire everything.

The times he's imagining Adam are the only times Tommy ever gets off on his Thursday afternoon napping days, but he figures he gets off hard enough to justify taking a rest all the other non-Adam Thursdays.

His favorite scenario starts with a whole lot of hair-tugging and being pushed to his knees - Tommy's never actually sucked dick but he's, like, tasted come (he fucking comes, and he's come in people's mouths and what kind of fucking asshole doesn't kiss after a fucking blowjob, seriously?) and he's, like, aware of how the procedure works - and ends up dick-in-ass and mostly has Tommy sucking on his fingers and fisting his cock and pumping his hips like his life depends on it. He always ends up with fucking cramp in his shoulder from twisting around to get his digits up his ass, but he's not fucking doing _stretches_ before he fucking jerks off. Fuck off.

He just takes Advil and refuses to elaborate more than _fucking Thursdays_ the next day and people leave it alone.

 

He does know it's, like, a creepy as fuck thing to do, jerking off to fantasies of your best friend, but he only ever does it on Thursdays, because Thursdays are fucking shit and nothing that actually happens on a Thursday counts towards, like karma or shit (the bad shit that's happened to Tommy on Thursdays has totally never been balanced out by good shit on other days so it totally fucking holds for when he's being a skeevy fuck too, thank you.).

 

It's not like he fucking does it all the time or anything, there are zombies to be taken care of (it's not like every fucking scenario ends up with him and Adam getting thrown together and realizing that they're morons for not hooking up years ago. Sometimes Tommy has to repopulate the planet, too) and anyway, Adam totally fucking admitted he'd thought about Tommy when he was spanking it. Or, well, Tommy was totally reading that conversation that way, Adam wasn't _that_ drunk.

Fuck it all. Tommy is a creepy fucking Thursday-hibernating delusional hermit and he doesn't fucking give a fuck. It's not like anybody actually _knows_.


End file.
